


Firm and Sure

by ava_jamison



Category: Batman (Comics), Catwoman (Comics), Catwoman - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, BatCat, F/M, Flirting, Playful Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_jamison/pseuds/ava_jamison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unseen moment from Batman Inc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firm and Sure

The hotel suite’s weight room was well-lit and modern, and the equipment was brand new even if it was all old-school. As of course, it would be. He’d picked it out. Selina leaned against the doorsill, watching Bruce lift and release, lying on his back on a bench.

“Need somebody to spot you?” she asked, champagne still in hand.

His lip quirked at the corner. “First time I’ve been asked that by a woman in her underwear.”

“Really?” she said, moving closer. “You get asked that by men in their underwear? Or are the women usually wearing more clothes?”

“Gentlemen,” he said with a little huff of exertion as he let the barbell rest in its brace, hands still wrapped around the thing, “don’t tell.”

Selina laughed, gliding a hand along the smooth warm muscles of his shoulder.

“News on our mark?”

“You're up to date,” she said, swinging a leg over to straddle him, the waistband of his boxers slippery against her inner thigh.

“Selina…” Bruce said, voice a low warning but his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I won’t crush the goods.” She let her full weight rest on him as she settled. “I like the goods.”

Bruce snorted, coming as close as he ever got to rolling his eyes. “The goods,” he said, “like you. But Selina…”

“Mm, I can tell.” She hooked an eyebrow at him, shifting an inch as she tipped back another mouthful of champagne.

His cock responded, nudging up to insinuate itself at the cleft of her ass. “Selina,” he said again, bringing his hands to her hips and squeezing for emphasis. “We’ve got work to do.”

“Not for hours.” She reached back behind herself to give him a friendly pat. “What, are you like a boxer before a match?”

Bruce squinted at her, re-grabbing the barbell. “And you were… where, exactly when we christened the suite?”

Selina grinned. “Right there with you, tiger. Wouldn’t miss a Bruce Wayne special like that.” She leaned forward. “But this weight room?” She lifted the champagne bottle. “Speaking of christening… what about you?”

“Selina….”

“It’s funny when you growl and smile at the same time.” She let the Dom Pérignon hover over his stomach.

“Makes criminals,” Bruce said slowly, looking from her to the champagne and back again, “quake in their boots.”

“It’s working on me, but I don’t think you usually use exactly that smile—”

“Don’t—” he said more sharply, as she angled the bottle.

“Maybe you mean a different kind of quaking. Mine’s more like a sexy little tremble…” she winked at him, tilting the champagne further.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t dare what?” Selina said, eyes wide and innocent. “Good you’ve got an inny.” She tipped the bottle of Dom Pérignon and champagne splashed across the flatness of Bruce’s stomach.

“Selina!” he yelped, at the same time grabbing her hips, hard. “That’s cold!”

“You can take it, tough guy.” She laughed, dropping the bottle softly to the floor and scooting down his body so she could bend forward, bringing her lips to the pooling effervescence, most of which was running off of him. She licked a broad swipe up his side, pleased at the shiver that got.

“You’re terrible.”

“You love it.” She lapped her tongue against his stomach, nipping and swirling at his naval and he groaned. He was nice and hard, she could feel him, rising insistently through his boxers against the swell of her tits, the edges of her bra. He reached for her but she pushed his hands away from her shoulders. “Uh-uh,” she said, looking up at his blue eyes, crinkled at the corners. “Lay back and take it, mister. Don’t you know when you’re licked?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” He propped himself up on his elbows. “That’s a terrible joke.”

“You’ll like the punchline.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move to get up.

She lifted herself enough to push his shorts down and his cock flexed up toward her, surging a little, warm against her palm. With her other hand, she reached for the bottle of champagne again.

He caught her wrist, eyes narrow. “Stop that.”

She tensed her arm, slow and experimental, but he wasn’t letting her budge. “Nice and _firm_. I like that in a man.” One hand immobile, she moved the rest of her body, slow and sinuous, rolling her breasts against his thighs, just once, a tease.

“Drop the bottle.”

She did. It fell with a dull thud and neither of them bothered to see where or how it landed, probably spilling out across the carpet, because… his voice. He was using _that_ voice and it, along with the gentle but unrelenting hold on her arm went straight _there._ She realized her lashes were fluttering, like her eyes were just about to roll back in her head a little, and she caught herself, just in time. Her breath didn’t even hitch, much, and she met his eyes, triumphant.

The glint in his told her he’d read her loud and clear. That, and the next words, purring out like honey poured, slow and easy, over granite. “Good girl,” he said, and the words made her, without permission or plan, tilt her hips up, toward him.

He smiled but didn’t release her arm, and his tone was the same, dark and unyielding. “You have too many clothes on.”

“Think so?”

He nodded, once, and with a swift, sure tug on her wrist, pulled her up his body. One-handed, he unhooked her bra and her breasts spilled free, cloth still in the way, but that much more skin to skin; she felt his chest rumble against her. “Take off your panties.”

“Mm,” she hummed, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “You’ll need to give me my arm back first.”

His eyes moved to where he held her in his iron grip, but they moved slowly, like maybe he’d almost forgotten that he’d trapped her, and he frowned at himself.

Selina leaned close to his ear. “Oh, baby,” she whispered. “Love to make you lose it for me.”

His thumb skimmed a lazy circle on the inside of her wrist, and the look he gave her was designed to tell her she was wrong, that he _never_ forgot himself. But when he spoke his voice betrayed him, low and husky. “Panties.” He gave her a little shove. “Off.”

“Yeah?” Selina stood slowly, slipping all the way out of her bra and turning her leg to show off laces and leather, a hot little boot heel. “Anything else?”

He smiled again, and this time it probably _was_... “Yeah,” Selina said, her own voice a little deeper. “That's the one.”

“What?”

“Look that makes 'em shiver.”

“Works on you, anyway.” He sat up and pulled her to him. “Leave,” he growled, “the boots on.”


End file.
